


I made this place for you

by linndechir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Series, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't even remember a time when he didn't get up to greet John in the middle of the night, to get the first-aid kit and clean out John's wounds. It's just what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I made this place for you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Five Acts Meme on LJ](http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/250594.html), for the prompts "UST + hurt/comfort + touching/bed-sharing". This is so UST that you can easily read it as gen, though.

_I made_  
 _this place for you. A place for you to love me.  
If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is._

 

Dean sneaks out of bed when he hears the door open, grabs his gun from the nightstand. He knows his dad should be back tonight, but it's always better to be safe than sorry. He still lets out a sigh of relief when he sees John, broad shoulders in the dark, his hands steady as he locks the door and restores the salt line.

“Hey, dad.” Dean keeps his voice down. Sammy is still sleeping in the other room and he doesn't want to wake him. John glances at him as he drops his duffel bag, drags himself to one of the chairs in the small kitchen and sits down, legs stretched out. 

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” He sounds bone-tired, and it seems to take every bit of strength he has left to remember that that's what normal parents would say if they came home to find their fifteen-year-old son up in the middle of the night. Dean ignores the question, switches the light on and grabs John a beer from the fridge. Studies him quietly as John drinks, frowns at the deep scratches on John's cheek, but apart from those his dad doesn't seem more than a bit bruised up. 

“How's Sammy?”

“Good. He's sleeping.” And Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't just as tired, and he probably _should_ be in bed, but he could do this in his sleep. Can't even remember a time when he didn't get up to greet John in the middle of the night, to get the first-aid kit and clean out John's wounds. John swears a little under his breath, but he holds still, and not for the first time Dean thinks that his dad shouldn't be so damn used to bleeding all over the place. Not when Dean could be watching his back.

“You should've let me come with you, I could've helped,” Dean says when he's done. John is even too tired to glare at him properly. 

“Not in the mood for that.” 

Dean knows to shut up when John's voice sounds like that, hoarse and too small and so weary of everything. He always sounds like that when he's been away from them for too long, when he's been alone for days or even weeks without anyone looking after him, and Dean knows that John on his own doesn't have the good sense to take care of himself, he just works too much and drinks too much and never gets enough sleep. Instead of arguing Dean kneels in front of him, helps him out of his boots and socks. Leans his head against the inside of John's thigh, and he can't help but smile when he feels John's hand in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

He knows he should be taking care of him, but he's missed this too much, missed sitting between John's legs; it makes him feel small, like a kid who can just close his eyes for a moment. And it's embarrassing as hell, but he must have dozed off, because next thing he knows John is grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up, and Dean isn't too proud to curl up on John's lap. His legs are too long for this and they're kind of in the way, but John's arms still fit around him perfectly, and Dean sighs happily when he tucks his head under John's chin. John smells of sweat and leather and the blood of whatever thing he killed this time, but for Dean he just smells like Dad, like home and being safe because John would kill the whole world before he'd let anything happen to his boys. And if John is clinging as much to Dean as the other way around, all the better, then Dean doesn't have to feel too guilty for enjoying this far more than he should.

John's hand on the nape of his neck, holding him close. The other hand on his back, slipping under Dean's shirt, and the warm touch makes Dean's skin tingle. John is nuzzling his hair, and Dean is fifteen, so even being half-asleep doesn't keep his mind from wishing that John wouldn't stop at that, but he knows they both can barely even sit upright from exhaustion.

“Come on, you're falling asleep, kiddo,” John mumbles into his hair, that low, rumbling voice that makes Dean's heart race and still reassures him more than anything else in this world. “Go back to bed.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly and holds on to John. It wouldn't be the first time that John would just fall asleep on a chair, and who knows how often he's already done that in the two weeks that he's been gone. And although Dean would never dream of saying it, John is definitely getting too old to sleep on chairs.

“Only if you go, too.” John laughs softly and tightens his arms around Dean for a moment, and Dean is grateful that John isn't in such a bad mood that he'd get angry at Dean for not obeying him right away. They both lean on each other on their way to the bedroom. It only has two beds; John had booked the room for Dean and Sam before he left, there had been no need for a third bed. Sammy is still sleeping, always a heavy sleeper unlike Dean, because he knows that someone is always there to keep him safe. And it's not just because Sammy always complains that he's too old to share a bed with Dean that Dean stumbles into bed with John instead. He had never been too proud for that, had never seen a reason why any of them should ever have to be alone when they have each other.

He's relieved that John doesn't object and just pulls Dean against his chest. John is still dressed, and he probably could have used a shower before going to bed, but Dean doesn't mind. He presses his face against John's chest, breathes in his smell, squirms a little to get his hands under John's shirt and hold on to him. Dad's home, and safe, and Sammy is snoring quietly in the other bed.

His last thought before he falls asleep is that as long as he has this, he'll be just fine.


End file.
